


Undisclosed Desire

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bilbo is trying to help, Dark Thorin, Descent into Madness, Everybody Lives, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gold Sickness, Kili/Tauriel - Freeform, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Thorin, The curse of the line of Durin, Thranduil is trying to save Thorin, side pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everyone thought they had won the war, they discovered Thorin Oakenshield, now King Under the Mountain may not be as healthy as he appeared to be. Gold sickness was not so easily cured and the Dwarven King had fixated his desires and possessive traits on a gem he never thought he long for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Atonement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, it has come to my attention that some of my works had been taken down without my authorization and upload for downloading as e-books, mobi, odf, etc and they're charging for some of them. This is one of those works and I just want to make clear only AO3 and my personal blog have the full rights of my work, I know this is a fanfiction and that in theory we're using characters and places that don't belong to me, however, the ideas in the story, the plot and other intellectual work is mine and is part of my fellow fanfic writers. Thank you for your consideration.

-  ** _I_** _can bring her back._

-  **Y** ou have two days.

-  _ **I**_ _n two days? the last moon of autumn and the first sun of  winter appear in the sky together._

-  **A** nd the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King’s return. But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn.*

 

**Atonement**

The cold breeze sneaked inside the room brushing against the skin of the Elven-King, his hand wrapping around his staff while his blue eyes stare off into the distance, where his forest ended and the Lonely Mountain stood proudly. The form of the mountain had always hunted his dreams; on those moments, he would come here and stare at the mountain feeling regret and sadness at what had happened that fateful day when Smaug came changing everything in Rhovanion.  

Two days he had given two days to Legolas to bring Tauriel back. But Thranduil knew, deep inside his heart they didn’t have enough time. Thorin was stubborn, his mind was set in one goal and sooner or later the mountain would wake up to fire and death. Was he ready to repeat his role like the last time? To turn his back to everything he felt, everything he wanted?

Thranduil closed his eyes seeing clearly the image of Thorin when they first met. The royal clothing giving the young Prince strength and pride, it made him look regal with the blue and silver of his gear matching the color of his eyes. His black hair fixed with the signs of adulthood, the braids made to show his status in the Dwarven Kingdom. Thorin had looked magnificent, and Thranduil had loved him. Never in his wildest dreams and nightmares had Thranduil imagine he would put his affections in a dwarf, much less one of the status of Thorin Oakenshield. It had tormented the Elven-King for months after the very first meeting, he had tried to forget, to look for an exit to his own feelings and desires; but it had been impossible and his mind, during the privacy of the nights, would reach for him and gave into temptation while thinking of those electric blue eyes, dark hair, strong features and even stronger personality. Thranduil remembered with bitterness how Thorin would charm whoever caught his attention, but Thranduil had never been an option, Thorin’s eyes would look at him with a hint of mistrust and normal curiosity. Thorin had warmed the bed of many lovers, whereas Thranduil was cursed with longing and unrequired affections.

The morning arrived with a crimson sky, there were no birds or any creatures out in the forest making any sound, and everything was silent. The calm before the storm. Thranduil tilted his head to the side, resolution written all over his features as he turned around giving his back to the mountain. He didn’t like war. He didn’t desire war, but this confrontation was inevitable.

This time around, Thranduil would not hide from the dragon. This time around, as he had done in his younger days, he would face the last of the dragons of the north and extend the help he had denied to Thorin a long time ago.

Thranduil exited his room with determination asking his guards for Galion and Castien to reach him in the Throne Room. His orders were accomplished between minutes and, by the time he arrived to his throne both commanders were there waiting for him. Galion and Castien glanced at each other with curiosity, there was worry in their hearts for they had a suspicion about this sudden meeting.

“What news do we have of the pack of orcs following Thorin Oakenshield and his company?” The King asked as soon as he took his place on the throne.

“None, my Lord.” Replied Galion bowing to his King. “They seemed to have followed them into Laketown, but we haven’t heard of any altercations in the city of men.”

Thranduil glanced at Galion then at Castien, “I hope you understand what is going on here. If Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór is here there is one simple goal in the mind of these dwarves.”

“The Lonely Mountain.” Replied Castien paling a little. “But, my Lord that would mean the dragon…”

“It’s going to be awaken, yes.” Thranduil glanced at his staff then at his elves. “Prepare everything for battle I want everyone ready to leave at mid-day.”

“My Liege?” Galion stuttered looking over at Thranduil.

“Long has been since we allowed this beast into the mountain. This time around we will fight against it.” Thranduil stood up looking harshly at Galion and Castien. “Prepare everything, I want as many elves as I can take with me without leaving Mirkwood unprotected.”

“My Lord, you…you’re coming with us?” Castien asked eyeing Thranduil with care, the King tilted his head arching an eyebrow at the question.

“Of course. Now, go, we leave at mid-day for Laketown.”

Thranduil looked at his reflection, the heavy armor on his body protecting the King but giving him a strong appearance. His blue cloak falling down his shoulders to his feet and his sword adorning the left side of his hip, his bow and quiver resting on the chair next to him; he was ready for battle. One last time.

He turned around and left his room with Galion following him close behind, the young man admiring his King while he went left and right looking over at his soldiers. Speaking commands and giving advice. Everything about Thranduil had always screamed to him command and beauty. Galion had decided a long time ago he would follow his King to the end of the days, even if it means he would see him fall in others arms.

Thranduil spoke to his people with authority, reminding them o who was the real enemy here. They would move out, not to fight the dwarves but to fight a dragon and its reign of terror once and for all. The elves followed him without a question, though many didn’t say it back then, they all had thought something must be done regarding Smaug. They moved through the forest directing the army of more than a thousand bows through the elven road directly into Laketown.

However, by the time they arrived, it was too late.

Smaug had destroyed the city and the heir of Girion had claimed the life of the dragon.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The Elven-King dismounted his moose, his elves placing themselves around him and the man who had killed Smaug. The greeted him like the hero he had become, men and elves salute him as he approached the Elven-King with confusion, embarrassment and a sense of pride.

“Galion lifted the tents and help the men of Laketown.” Thranduil advanced towards Bard, Galion bowing lightly before turning to give the orders out.

“Greetings, Elven-King.” Bard bowed respectfully to the elf, feeling awkward under the intense stare of the blond-head. “I thank you for the help you can provide to us. The men of Laketown would forever be in your debt.”

“I believe it us, along with your people, the ones who are in debt with you, Bard heir of Girion.” Thranduil inclined his head much to the surprise of the man. “I was hoping to arrive on time to save your people all the pain of dragon fire can bring, I regret not having come sooner.”

Bard shook his head, his jaw clenching in silent anger as he turned his attention to the mountain. He shook his head turning his attention to the burning city, to his son and then back to the Elven-King.

“He must be dead, he and all his companions.” Bard said with a hint of regret in his voice. “The treasure of the mountain may help with the cities reconstruction.”

“You’ve been thinking on marching to the mountain.” Thranduil commented joining Bard in his contemplation of Erebor. “Do you really think he is dead?”

Thranduil asked quietly with his heart bleeding silently before an unremarkable truth, if Smaug had come to the city of men it could only mean Thorin was dead. Gone. As he watched the mountain something inside broke without repair, he felt weak to the knees with his throat closing in, eyes itching while he tried to compose himself.

Bard glanced at the Elven-King, furrowing his brows he shook his head, “There is only one way to find out. I find it hard to believe Smaug would have ended his live without bragging about it when he arrived to Laketown.”

Thranduil clenched his fists nodding curtly, quick footsteps coming from behind them called his attention. He turned in time to see one of his soldiers.

“My Lord, we heard from Prince Legolas and Captain Tauriel.”

“Where are they? What happened?” Thranduil was immediately on guard, ever since he arrived to the city of men the lack of any news about Legolas and Tauriel had him worried as well, if they were not here…was it possible thy had gone all the way to Erebor?

“A couple of citizens form Laketown saw Prince Legolas leave on a horse following a group of orcs.”

Bain opened his eyes wide grabbing his father’s forearm, “Father! The orcs! They…they attacked us!”

“What? What do you mean?” Bard turned to his son, the attention of the man and the elves was on the young boy who nodded gravely.

“When Kíli, the dwarf and his companions, were at our home…some orcs, the arrived and attacked us, two elves helped us.” Bain narrated glancing shyly at the King then at his father. “One of them left following the rest of the orcs but the woman, Tauriel stayed to help Kíli recovered. She saved him.”

“Do you know where is she know? Or my son?” Thranduil asked Bain hesitated for a moment turning to the mountain then back at Thranduil.

“The dragon attacked right then, I did everything I could to help my sisters go to a safe place along with some of the people of Laketown.” Bain explained glancing at Thranduil and his father. “When morning was approaching and the dragon was taken care of I saw Kíli and the others leave…and the elf, Tauriel leave in search of her friend. I don’t think, Kíli was too happy to see her go but…”

Bain trailed off wondering if perhaps what he just told them could help in any way, he was in debt with the blond elf and Tauriel, as well as with Kíli, his brother and the rest of their companions. If it hadn’t been for them, Bain couldn’t have acted as fast as he did to save her sisters. The young man looked over at the mountain with worry.

“Father, do you think…Do you think Kíli and his brother are doing fine?”

Bard glanced at Thranduil who shook his head thinking fast of his next step, he turned to the soldier speaking firmly.

“Take five elves with you. Find Legolas and Tauriel and make them meet me at the gates of Erebor. Be careful, something tells me there is more to this dragon fire that we know.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bard asked watching as the soldier left.

Thranduil shook his head, dread filling his heart as his mind work on the different possibilities about the orcs presence in Laketown. They had been looking for Thorin, and if they were to believe he was still alive, how many of those foul creatures would come to hunt the Dwarven King down?

“The orcs had been following Thorin Oakenshield since before he even crossed Mirkwood.” Thranduil said indicating Bard to follow him. “If the orcs are still closer, I fear they may come in greater numbers to attack the mountain. If you want to go there, better not go without men and elves and without swords and bows to fight them off.”

Bard nodded impressed following the Elven-King while asking the men to get ready to approach the mountain. Thranduil’s mind was a pool of thoughts and worries; he couldn’t stop thinking about his son hunting down orcs, or Tauriel who was still vent on revenge on those foul creatures. He couldn’t’ stop thinking about Thorin, wondering if he was alive if he was going to see him again.

It didn’t take long for the Men and the Elves to get ready, both races set off to march towards the mountain, many following the lead of Bard the Bowman, the Dragon-Slayer. The desolation of Smaug was great and deep, the earth bleed with the reminders of the fire and anger of the dragon; the world of Dale and the city of Erebor was mere ruins before the eyes of the Elven-King and Bard.

The afternoon was just arriving when they made it to the very gates of the Lonely Mountain. The stone work made to the door covering the main entrance of Erebor was rough and yet magnificently firm. No one could enter, although Thranduil suspect if they wanted it, the dwarves could leave the place. There were no words to describe the relief Thranduil felt when his eyes fell upon the form of Thorin.

He stood firmly on top of the wall, silver and black crown adorned his head while the armor of his ancestors protected his body. Their eyes met but all Thranduil could receive from those cold, blue eyes, was silent anger and hatred, the growing greed and dragon sickness at the heart of Thorin. Gear gripped Thranduil’s heart for he knew, he knew this could be the end of Thorin if he allowed the curse of his grandfather and his father take over his live.

But, how to save someone you love when this someone hated you with so much passion?

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The negotiations had failed.

The stormy clouds of war seemed to be approaching the elven and human camp while Thorin stood guard, with stubborn resolution over the gold of Erebor. The tension in the air was palpable, Thranduil had heard men and elves talk about the ambition of Thorin, he heard them talk about the lack of gratitude and the contempt on the dwarf’s face. Thorin was ungrateful and unfair, and the men of Dale would recover what was theirs to help and build back their city. That was all they wanted.

Thranduil knew they were wrong.

He had seen the dragon sickness several times, on different people he had met during his long life. Thranduil felt it in the words Thorin spat with anger and resentment; he saw it in the face of Thorin’s companions who seemed just as shocked as the rest of the world at what Thorin was saying. He knew it with certainty when the Halfling brought the Arkestone and spoke to them about the Thorin he met and the Thorin who was now residing on the mountain.

Thranduil took of his crown, sitting down on his chair while looking absentmindedly to his bed. Finding Thorin was alive was a relief, but finding he was giving into the gold sickness took away all hope to reach him. What could he do? How could he save him this time around?

He had come all the way to Erebor to amend his mistakes of years ago, he had been late and now…

“Uh, excuse me, your Majesty…”

Thranduil shifted turning to the source of the voice, there at the entrance of his tent was Bilbo Baggins, the companion Thorin had almost thrown away from the stone wall. The hobbit glanced at the King bouncing on his feet while looking apologetically at him.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t, what can I do for you, Master Baggins? Why are you here at such a hour, I would have thought you will be resting after today’s events.”

A shadow of sadness went through the hobbits expression; he shrugged his shoulders and moved closer to the King. His left hand moving inside his pocket while his brows furrowed thoughtfully, Thranduil followed the hobbit with his eyes curious as to why he was there.

“I don’t think I can sleep. I can’t stop feeling regret for betraying Thorin in such a way and yet, I don’t regret what I did.” Bilbo gave the King a bitter smile. “It’s strange for a hobbit like me to feel so many contradicting things at once. My life used to be calmer and without so many agitations.”

Thranduil couldn’t help but smile, even if a part of him was resolute to hate the hobbit who seemed the center of Thorin’s attentions he couldn’t deny the Halfling was charming and had a magic on himself that made him impossible to ignored.

“I wage traveling with Thorin was an adventure on itself. He can be quite stubborn and his lack of directions can create more problems than solutions.”

Bilbo laughed shaking his head at the accuracy of the statement; he nodded accepting the offer of the other chair inside the tent.

“You seem to know him very well.” Bilbo spoke suddenly eying Thranduil with big, open eyes. Thranduil shifted looking away for a moment.

“I believe you heard the story between our people.”

“I did.” Bilbo pursed his lips glancing at the King. “I can’t imagine what a hard decision that must be. We hobbits are simple folk, not looking for unnecessary dangers.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, “There was nothing I could do. I have already advice Thrór of what his greed may bring, but he didn’t listen just like Thráin didn’t want to listen to my advice.”

“Like I said, it must have been a hard decision, I can’t imagine what it is to have an army but knowing there are no chances of winning a battle.” Bilbo sounded genuine, honest, he was glancing at Thranduil with an understanding a creature without the experience of battle shouldn’t have.

Thranduil nodded curtly placing his elbow on the armrest of his char, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. His blue eyes focused on Bilbo just as the hobbit returned the stare with a strange expression on his face.

“Why are you here, Bilbo Baggins? Why come to my tent with such conversation in you?”

Bilbo squirmed on the chair his hand playing with the ring inside his pocket; suddenly he didn’t feel as sure as he was moments ago about this conversation. He really needed to stop Gandalf for making him do this kind of things.

“Everyone is asleep and I know for a fact, Thorin usually uses this time to guard the gate.” Bilbo dared to glance at the Elven-King who was now giving him a calculating glare.

“Why are you telling me this?” Thranduil asked carefully, his attention fixed on the hobbit.

“Because I know you notice it to.” Bilbo said without more preambles, Thranduil quirked an eyebrow making Bilbo sighed in resignation. “He is not himself, the treasure…the mountain…even the Arkenstone…he is not himself, he hasn’t been himself from a long time. We need to help him before this turns into a horrible fight.”

“What makes you think me talking to him would help the situation?” Thranduil was utterly confused. “If you haven’t noticed it he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Bilbo replied rather fast, he pursed his lips under the incredulous stare of the Elven-King. “Very well, he may feel some _animosity_ towards you.”

Thranduil snorted shaking his head, “He feels more than animosity for me.”

“True, that’s why you should try talking to him…explain to him everything that happened. Maybe…” Bilbo trailed off not knowing what else to say, he wasn’t even sure if this plan would even work.

He had seen Thorin, had seen how far gone he was. Sadness filled Bilbo at the memory of the cruel words the dwarf had screamed to him. Thranduil examined the hobbit for a long time, discovering the affections Bilbo held for Thorin. They were on the same page; it seemed Thorin was always conquering hearts wherever he went.

“What makes you think I will help?” Thranduil finally asked, this time around Bilbo stared at Thranduil with incredulity on his features.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, King Thranduil. You spoke differently when you talk to him or are talking about him.” Bilbo didn’t need to explain how he saw all of this during their stay at the Elven-King’s palace; he didn’t need to explain more of what he just said.

Thranduil looked away, “You have keen eyes, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo smiled bitterly remembering those same words on the mouth of Thorin; he stood up making his way towards Thranduil.

“Will you come with me then?”

It took them twenty minutes to leave the main camp and made their way to the gates of Erebor. Bilbo was quite impressed at how quiet the Elven-King could be, after having been with dwarves for more than a few months he had forgotten other creatures of Middle Earth could walk without making noise like a group of oliphaunts. It was a relief to make his way through the ruins with someone who could be as invisible as him without the need of the ring.

Thranduil straightened himself up glancing at the shadow of the mountain in front of him, his black cloak covering his royal clothing. His eyes found the silver moon above his head and there, bright with hope and promise was Eärendil the most beloved star for the elves.  Thranduil felt apprehension for his meeting with Thorin, Bilbo was right, he had seen the signs but he wasn’t as sure as the hobbit that Thorin would be happy to see him. To see either of them; still there was something inside Thranduil pushing him towards the dwarf. 

“Who is it? Who is out there coming like a thief in the night?” The deep voice of Thorin resounded in the silent night, it didn’t hold the warm and passion it once had, instead there was coldness and contempt.

Thranduil felt sadness in him; he approached with the hood of his cloak still in place, turning swiftly to catch the arrow aim at him. He grimaced feeling his fingers cut at the sharp edge of the arrow head. Thorin huffed leaning forward to watch the dark figure in front of him.

“I didn’t come here to fight, Thorin.” Thranduil lowered the hood of his cloak allowing the silver light of the moon to reflect on his blond hair. His eyes gleamed lightly as they centered their attention on the dwarf.

For a moment Thorin was left speechless, he had never seen Thranduil so _natural._ There was a wild beauty behind the lack of crown or regal gear Thranduil usually wore to face him. The dwarf felt enchanted for a moment, his dark, blue eyes inspected the white skin of the elf, following the sharp edges of his features to the line forming his mouth. Thorin took great care in scanning those eyes bright as sapphires in the night, the hair a mixture of gold and silver. The elf in front of him looked like a marble figure belonging to his halls; Thorin shook his head scowling at the mere thought of having the traitor near him. He glanced at Thranduil again but this time around he made sure the elf could see how disgusted Thorin was with his presence.

The glare Thorin sent his way almost made him step back, but Thranduil wasn’t a King for nothing. He lifted his chin an approached the gate with his hand in a sign of peace, Thorin lifted his bow readying another arrow.

“Give me an excuse and I’ll do it with pleasure, Thranduil.”

Thranduil stopped his lips curving in a bitter gesture; he stopped walking shaking his head while directing his eyes to Thorin.

“Can we speak without threatening one another? Can we get to a consensus regarding the treasure?” Thranduil analyzed the situation with sharp eyes, he noticed the sudden darkening in Thorin’s eyes, the change of his features was something that made Thranduil shivered with fear.

He had only seen such an expression in one person before Thorin, King Thingol had worn the same mask of _darkness_ when someone mentioned Nauglamír to him. Ambition, greed and hatred was all Thranduil could see and his heart felt heavy with worry and sadness for the beauty of Thorin’s soul had been tainted with an evil seed.

“The treasure is _mine_. Aren’t you happy to have stolen from me what is rightfully mine? Give back the Arkenstone and I may consider leaving all of you alive.” Thorin spat with fury.

Thranduil sighed shaking his head, “Can’t you see it, Thorin? Can’t you feel it? You are losing yourself to the same sickness your grandfather suffered from, your father…given enough time he would have gone down the same path. You, I always thought you were different.”

“Shut up! I’m not my grandfather! I’m not my father! Stop talking to me as if you know me, as if you and I were more than shaky allies and bitter enemies!” Thorin screamed out into the night, looking wild and enraged at the elf. “You lack all honor, Thranduil! You are enjoying my misery just as you enjoy the misery of my people when Smaug attack!”

“I didn’t! I thought after all this time you would have understood why I couldn’t help.” Thranduil replied back feeling his blood boil. “I couldn’t sacrifice my people when the dragon had already taken possession of the mountain! We were few and unprepared!”

“Shut up! Shut up! You…You…I will kill you myself to make you feel half the pain you make me feel!” Thorin threatened hitting the stone under his arms.

Thranduil furrowed his brows puzzlement evident on his features, “I don’t understand this, Thorin. I never hurt you. I don’t understand all this rage against me.”

“You don’t understand?” Thorin sputtered incredulously and for a moment Thranduil saw a glimpse of the old Thorin.

“I apologized for that day. If this was what you want to hear then yes, I regretted the moment I turned my back on you and your people.” Thranduil continued trying to reach Thorin with his eyes and words. “My desire to keep my people safe was greater than my need to help _you,_ and I will regret it for the rest of my live.”

Thorin stood there silently eyeing Thranduil while trying to make sense of the speech, he closed his mouth tensing slightly as his mind brought the memories of the day of Smaug’s attack. He tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but his mind kept on reminding him of the betrayal, the voice inside his head kept on telling him about all he lost, about the treasure men and elves desire, the treasures that had cost his father and grandfather’s life. Then, something else appeared on his mind, something righter…beautiful…something completely _his_ ; and just like that, Thorin transformed again sneering down at Thranduil.

“You are quite the entrancing mewling quim, Thranduil. But I won’t fail for your _charms_ the way you may have convinced that man from Laketown.” Thorin lifted the bow again. “Now leave before I keep my promise and make you feel pain beyond comprehension.”

Thranduil was trembling with anger and something else, he stared into Thorin’s eyes only to see darkness. He turned around and left as silently as he had appeared.

“What was that?” Bilbo asked shakily glancing at the Elven-King.

Thranduil finally gave in, sitting down while placing his face on his hands. He was trembling, his mind reeling with disorganized thoughts.

“I don’t know, but we better stop this nonsense or else Thorin is going to hurt someone.”

“I’m sorry, King Thranduil.” Bilbo looked crestfallen glancing at the Elven-King apologetically.

“Don’t be, Bilbo. This is not your fault.” Thranduil sighed glancing back at the mountain. “I think we need to talk to Gandalf and seek a solution to this problem."

Bilbo nodded eagerly finding the encounter between Thorin and Thranduil quite terrifying. Never, not even when Thorin realized he had stolen the Arkenstone had Bilbo felt so terrified of Thorin, Bilbo had ever thought…He was scared. Glancing at the Elven-King he realized he wasn’t the only one worried about the dwarf. He just hoped they were on time to save Thorin from himself.

 

 

 

 


	2. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is looking for some kind of redemption, Thorin wakes to an empty world and Dáin has ulterior motives in his heroic acts.

**Savior**

There was never time.

Fate never gave him a breather, always seeking a way to bring misfortune to his life.

The battle had been brutal, blood and sweat, mud and dirt was covering most of the warriors.

Thranduil was not stranger to battles, he had live long enough to face some of the worst confrontations in Middle Earth. He had killed and seen his friends, family and leaders killed, he had face death countless times and for one reason or another he had always be victorious.  Thranduil had drawn his sword entering the battle with determination and fire in his eyes. He moved swiftly through the army of orcs with Tauriel and Legolas by his side. Thranduil had entered the battle with a single goal in mind and, as he moved and slayed orcs and wargs, he made his way to the gates of Erebor.

He was poetry in motion, his arms moved at his command while his feet dance around taking him further into the battle. The lesser members of the orc army would run away from him, all of them knowing he was fire and light in the middle of the darken storm of the battle. His voice raise above the clamor of the battle invoking the name of the Valar to bring strength and certainty to his slashes; his sword didn’t fail.

Legolas and Tauriel moved beside their King, both equally surprise at how at ease the Elven-King seemed in battle. The followed him trying to stop the growing numbers of the orcs surrounding them, they dance along with their leader moving further into the mountain approaching the highest point from where Azog was watching his army. It took him some time and a few distractions but, finally, Legolas understood what his father was doing.

Thorin Oakenshield wielded his own sword with rage, his arm fell with power crushing the skulls of his enemies, the members of his company fighting just as fiery as their leader. However, and even though all of them seemed to be proficient warriors, they were alone and the orcs were closing in. Legolas opened his eyes quite shocked, turning around he screamed back to Galion who was the closest to him, he asked for assistance while Legolas grabbed his bow to take down his enemies.

Dwarves or not, hate or not, Legolas wasn’t about to let them die. Not like this.

Thranduil lifted his leg giving a half turn to the right while lifting his right arm, the sword went through the orc’s neck cleanly. The Elven-King advanced just on time to end the life of another enemy sneaking right behind Thorin.

Thorin Oakenshield turned with his arm raised stopping dead on his tracks at the sight of Thranduil and the orc at his feet. Both, dwarf and elf, looked into each other’s eyes, breathing hard with their blood boiling with the glow of the battle. Thorin felt something inside his chest stirred in desire when he realized the disheveled state Thranduil was in. His blond hair, usually impeccable, was out of place with patches of dirt and blood. His face was wearing dirt from the battle and his armor had blood, mud and rest of orcs on it. His eyes…those blue eyes were gleaming with fire consuming Thorin in ways he had never felt before. For a moment, Thorin forgot everything but those blue eyes, the light coming from Thranduil was entrancing, just like it had been the night before during the strange visit from the Elven-King.

_Take him…_

It was a simple whisper in his head; guttural and enchanting…a silent invitation Thorin was ready to accept.

“THORIN!”

The scream from Balin came too late.

Azog didn’t have mercy on his attack and both, Thranduil and Thorin suffered from it. Never before, not since the battle against Sauron, had Thranduil suffered from any kind of wound. He lifted his head dizzily, blinking to recover his sense of equilibrium. His right hand closed tightly around the hilt of his sword hearing the moans of pain from Thorin he shook his discomfort away watching as Azog lowered his arm aiming for Thorin’s head.

The dwarf rolled to the side on time, giving Thranduil the moment he needed to slash the orc from the right. Azog growled turning fast his right arm colliding with Thranduil’s face while his leg found Thorin’s abdomen. Thranduil clenched his fists in frustration, standing up he went to attack this time around he was ready to counter attack and evade the advances of Azog. There was blood on his face, his ears were buzzing with the heat of battle and the closeness of Thorin who was now fighting side by side with him.

They fought together for what seemed like hours, Thranduil felt his arm heavy with tiredness his head was hurting after the hits he had received but he kept on fighting just as fierce as he did when he was younger.  But Azog was not normal orc, and Thorin had such a stubborn nature what happened next was too fast for Thranduil to do something on time; Thorin pushed him away from the next attack his sword slashing at the muscular thigh of Azog who screamed in pain. Thranduil rolled on his feet only to be attack by a warg and lose sight of the battle with the white orc.

It was the scream coming from Thorin what made the Elven-King beheaded the warg, returning his attention to the fight on time to see Azog put his sword out of Thorin and then slammed him against the closest rock. Thorin moaned bleeding with his eyes trying to focus on the approaching orc.

Time stood still, Azog smirked approaching Thorin with his left arm lifted ready to take Thorin’s head as a prize.

It never reached its destination though, just as Thorin was about to give into his destiny Azog stopped with a bewildered expression on his face. Then a glimpse of silver caught Thorin’s eyes and the last thing he remembered was Thranduil pushing the defeated body of Azog away and calling out for help.

* * *

* * *

* * *

He heard the voice at first.

It was enthralling, a soft whisper caressing his mind with sweet promises of light. He tried to grasp the owner of such a voice, but his eyes could only see the beauty of a strange gem with gold and white giving form to a vision of blue eyes.

Thorin felt a warm surrounding him, just as his kind reveal more details of his captivating savior. He needed to touch him to know he was real. He tried to stretch his hand, but it was as if he didn’t have any command on his body, but his mind…his mind could move further, his mind removed the intensity of the light and there…there it was…the strangest of gems, the more valuable of the treasures…

The Elven-King Thranduil in all his _real_ glory.

And Thorin desired him, he desired him more than any treasure or gem under the mountain. Something inside Thorin stirred a dark desire to own such a beautiful creature. Thorin tried to reach further into his mind to catch the King but he seemed elusive. Anger filled his mind, anger at being denied what he wanted. Thorin tried again but the light disappeared and suddenly everything was darkness.

“How is he?” Bilbo Baggins entered the tent where Fíli, Kíli and Thorin were resting after the battle.

Thranduil glanced at Bilbo tiredly shaking his head, “I did everything I could. From now on, it is his fight.”

Thorin was turning restlessly he seemed to be suffering of high fevers as sweat appeared on his forehead. Bilbo approached the bed glancing worriedly at his friend before turning his attention to the tired Elven-King. It was such a curious occurrence, every time he heard the story about the fight; he found it incredible the Elven-King had saved Thorin. At first, Bilbo thought it was just out of duty, something like: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

But watching the care with which Thranduil attended Thorin…Bilbo may not be a great warrior, or a great healer. He may be a simple hobbit from The Shire, but he wasn’t stupid. Oh, no, he knew, he recognized the signs of affection there, lingering in the blue eyes of the Elven-King. Could it be Thorin feel the same? Could it be the bitterness behind Thorin’s references of the Elven-King was anger at having his feelings dismissed?

Everything was still confusing, but Bilbo was patient.

“What about Fíli and Kíli?”

Thranduil allowed himself a tiny smile, “They are better. Their wounds were not as fatal as Thorin’s. It was Tauriel fast thinking what saved them.”

Thorin growled shifting restlessly on the bed, Thranduil furrowed his brows placing his hand on top of Thorin’s one. Almost immediately the dwarf calmed going back to sleep.

“You should probably rest, I can take care of them until some of the other healers come in.” Bilbo sat down eyeing the Elven-King with a hint of worry in his eyes.

Thranduil gave the hobbit a half smile nodding briefly, “You are probably right, Master Baggins.”

But the Elven-King didn’t move, his hand was still firmly grasping Thorin’s one, his eyes were mapping out the resting features of the future King of the dwarves.  Bilbo knew the Elven-King was still thinking about Thorin’s words at the gates of Erebor; he could guess Thranduil was still thinking about the battle and how close had they come to lose the line of Durin. It was the hobbit’s first war and he hoped with all he had it was the last war. Many had been lost, and there were scars impossible to cure. Bilbo glanced at Fíli and Kíli who were still unconscious, both of them recovering slowly after having been victims of the orcs arrows and sharp steel. Fíli would forever be devoid of his left eye, and Kíli would wore a deep slash on his chest the cost of keeping Erebor and the line of Durín alive.

Thorin, however, seemed woundless.

But there was something Bilbo was still worried about, and by the way Gandalf and Thranduil had treated Thorin, the hobbit knew he wasn’t mistaken in his assertions. But, much like with the brothers, Bilbo and the others would have to wait for the dwarves to wake up and see to what extended the battle had affected their physical and mental bodies.

Tauriel, Captain of the Elven-King’s guard, entered the tent her face was a mask of concern and her eyes fell upon Kíli the moment she crossed the veiled door. Thranduil turned slightly his blue eyes piercing at his Captain who was followed shortly after by Prince Legolas.

“My Lord, are there any progress form them?” Tauriel asked bowing to her King.

Thranduil eyed his Captain, unable to be annoyed by her for far too long. He had raised her along-side Legolas, Thranduil knew Tauriel felt nothing but brotherly affection to his son but he also knew Legolas had entertained the idea of joining with the red-head.  Who would have thought Tauriel would fall for the same charm the Line of Durín seemed to possess? The Elven-King glanced at Tauriel then at Kíli cocking his brow when he noticed the silent anger crossing Legolas’ eyes.

“There has been not changed, Tauriel. How are things in the camp?”

“I already organized those who were not harm during the battle. Some of them I sent to help the men and dwarves in recovering the bodies and making the right arrangement for the fallen.” Tauriel gave her report approaching her King, her right hand twitching anxiously in a silent desire to be beside Kíli. “The others I sent to help the wounded and with food and resting arrangements.”

“Well done, Tauriel.” Thranduil stood up without realizing his son’s eyes were now on the joined hands of the Elven-King and Thorin Oakenshield. “I believe is time for me to rest. I trust you will take care of the future King and heirs of Erebor?”

Tauriel felt warm raised on her cheeks, she eyed Thranduil nodding briefly pressing her right arm on her chest.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Very well.” Thranduil was tempted to say something else but desisted the idea; he made his way to the entrance of the tent stopping right beside Legolas placing his right hand on his son’s shoulder.

Legolas tilted his head to face his father and there was a moment of silent exchange between them, Thranduil glanced at Bilbo then at Tauriel who was already hovering on Kíli’s bed. Legolas pursed his lips nodding curtly.

“I’ll watch over them.” He whispered for his father to hear him, Thranduil left the tent unaware of the silent shadow crossing Thorin’s sleeping face.

* * *

* * *

* * *

By the time Thorin finally woke up he did so in a world different to the one he had known so far. He glanced at the improvised tent when he was being attended by elves and dwarves alike, his eyes would follow the healers grunting answers whenever he felt like answering. The first times he received the visits from his company or Dáin something stirred deep inside Thorin, a hidden beast he hadn’t know he possess. He didn’t like the noise or the people surrounding him, Thorin usually felt overwhelmed and invisible in a world where everyone could see but no one could actually _see_ him.

On the fourth day, Thorin Oakenshield felt cold.

He felt empty, with a hole growing in his chest while he went through the motions as Balin, Dwalin and Dáin handed over to him the direction of the Dwarven Kingdom.  The world became dull and without any attractiveness and the words coming from Dáin, Balin and Dwalin held hot meaning or interested to him. Still, he sat straighten up on the bed, with his head held high and his eyes going from one dwarf to the other. He felt weak, but showing weakness would give Dáin an excuse to keep trying and usurp his authority over his company and those loyal to the Throne of Erebor.

“The messengers had been sent to Ered Luin with the news of our victory.” Dáin proclaimed with a hint of snobbery in his voice with a defiant gleam behind his black eyes. “And the treasure is being classified by my people as we talk.”

“With Bofur and Gloin supervising the activities, of course.” Balin replied quickly eyeing Thorin.

The black-haired Dwarf gave a half-smirk to the presents; his eyes were devoid of any emotion as the centered their attention on Dáin. Dwalin shifted on the chair glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye worry evident on their faces. Dáin from his part received the challenge with a smirk of his own not moving a single inch under the coldness of Thorin’s stare.

“How noble of you, Dáin. I will not forget this favor you have extended to Erebor.” Even though those words were said with a deep, warm voice at the same time as Thorin stretch his hand towards Dáin, the leader of the iron Hills felt dread in his heart.

It was absurd! He could not believe it possible such simple words would wake in him such anxiousness and still, it wasn’t Thorin’s words. It was the look he was directing Dáin, there was something in those blue eyes. Dáin clenched his jaw angry with himself for letting Thorin get the better of him; he would not be played with. He had come a long way with an army to help Thorin and by Aulë Thorin would pay in kind the favor.

Dáin leaned forward grabbing Thorin’s hand sealing the pleasantries and the silent promise of retribution. Both dwarves made sure to put extra pressure in the hand shake before returning to their original positions.

Balin observed the situation worrying over the strange behavior coming from Thorin, there was something _off_ about him. Something Balin couldn’t pin point yet.  Dáin stood up excusing himself before leaving the tent without looking back. There was a moment of silence between the three friends, a loud snore came from Kíli’s bed telling the adults the young dwarf was fast asleep.

“Where is Fíli?” Thorin asked harshly eyeing the empty bed of his nephew and heir.

“He is with Bilbo, walking around the camp and helping everyone.” Dwalin answered under the watchful eye of Thorin.

“Tell him I want him supervising everything Dáin does.” Thorin finally voiced his concerns, Balin nodded gravely just as Dwalin furrowed his brows. “I don’t want Dáin walking around forgetting I am still alive and the rightful heir to Erebor’s Throne.”

“I don’t think he has forgotten about it.” Balin commented carefully, Thorin shoot him a heated glare than soon was softened with a half-smile.

“Of course not.” Thorin shook his head letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I believe I’m still tired and I feel _oversensitive_ about this situation.”

Balin nodded briefly softening his features as well, “I understand, Thorin. It would take some time, but you will be on your feet soon enough.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything. We won’t let Dáin do or say more than what he should, and Fíli is taking his duty as heir pretty seriously.” Dwalin replied.

“I know.” Thorin glanced at Balin and Dwalin observing as the worry they wore moments ago leave their faces, he gave them a sincere smile shaking his head. “This has been a complete madness. I’m just getting restless on this bed.”

Balin chuckled, “Oh, I think is getting to your head but the Elven-king told us you would be able to stand up in a few days. Don’t worry too much. Just take the rest you need.”

Thorin lowered his gaze grumbling something that sounded as an insult to Thranduil; Balin rolled his eyes standing up as well. He and Dwalin left not without telling Thorin to rest some more while they made sure everything was running smoothly in the dwarven camp.

Once he was sure he was alone Thorin growled. His mind burning with anger towards Dáin who was most probably stealing from him at that very moment; he clenched his fists thinking of a fast way to recover himself and show Dáin who was King Under the Mountain.  The dwarf grumbled again looking to the side only for his eyes to fall upon the only reminder off his savior. A single circlet made of pure Mitrhil and work by skillful hands specially made for a King. The same circlet Thranduil had worn to battle.

A sudden sense of emptiness filled his stomach making his chest ache with a strange sense of urgency in him. Thorin stretched his hand, trembling fingers caressing the cold surface of the circlet as his mind called upon the memory of soft, smooth skin, deep and intense blue eyes, long, straight blond hair, the ethereal spark behind the powerful figure of Thranduil, Elven-King of the Woodland Realm.

The world stood still while calloused fingers trembling over the forms interlaced of the cold metal, Thorin felt his heart beating fast and his mind clouding as a strange craving grew from within himself.  There was no understanding coming for Thorin, only yearning in the form of a cursed, traitor of an elf; it was only then Thorin realized what he was doing. He took his hand away as if the princeling crown burn his fingertips.  With a snarl he grabbed the circlet in his hand and threw it directly in front of him only for the silver artifact to collide against the chest of his owner.

Thorin sneered at Thranduil, his eyes shone daring Thranduil to do or say something to him to ignite the fire that was begging to be lit inside Thorin.  But Thranduil didn’t give into the challenge; he arched a brow with a mask of indifference bending over to pick his crown up. Thorin tensed moving anxiously while his eyes took in the noble form of the Elven-King.

“You’re welcome.” Thranduil stated his cold eyes locking with Thorin’s ones, his lips curling in a mocking smile.

Thranduil felt the anger coming from Thorin; he knew his words had pierced the dwarf’s pride. The Elven-King stepped inside the tent moving slowly deliberately entrancing with his eyes always on Thorin.   There was still anger in those eyes, Thorin was still deeply hurt by Thranduil and his anger was slowly becoming in an unspoken hatred that slash Thranduil deeply inside his heart.

“I never asked for your help.” Thorin finally retorted, his voice dripping coldness and contempt.

“And yet, I give it to you. How ironic.” Thranduil tilted his head his hand touched the bed lightly while his feet took him closer to Thorin. “Had I not been there, Azog would have ended your live along with the lives of your nephews. “

Thorin watched the hand approaching his; dizziness took over his senses when those smooth fingertips made contact with his. The dwarf could not take his eyes away from the fingers now touching his, the electric feeling the contact sent through his arm directly to his mind moving down to his chest to end up in his groin. A fire like no other before burnt in Thorin just as he closed his hand around the wrist of the Elven-King, Thorin reveled in the sound coming from the elf. He lifted his eyes to see the face of the Elven-King, to watch the object of his desire…

“What are you doing?”

The voice broke whatever enchantment Thorin had been in, the dwarf opened his eyes in shock and horror when he realized he was still touching the circlet resting mockingly on the bed beside his bed.

“Uncle?” Kíli was the owner of the voice, Thorin turned around to see his nephew eyeing him with puzzlement and worry.

Thorin shook his head waving his hand away while settling back on the bed, “It was nothing.”

But it certainly was something; Thorin turned his head watching the circlet with a growing sense of apprehension.  What, in the name of Aulë had happened to him? Without waiting for a definite answer, Thorin stood on shaky legs waiting for a few minutes until his limbs could hold him still. With a strange determination growing on him, Thorin grabbed some of his bloodied clothes and, once he was dressed he exited the tent with a single goal in mind, the screams coming from Kíli forgotten as his mind clouded him with memories of the visions of his inner desire.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

“He is awake, you know?” Bilbo spoke distractedly while trying to keep up with the Elven-King.

Thranduil was tempted to roll his eyes at the insistence of the hobbit, ever since Thorin had woken up Bilbo was pushing a mandatory visit from Thranduil to Thorin. It simple was not possible; this was a meeting Thranduil wasn’t yearning to hold.

“I am aware of the happenings of this campsite, Master Baggins.” Thranduil replied dryly.

Bilbo huffed shaking his head, “I don’t understand then, why haven’t you visited Thorin? I thought this is what you want, for him to be awake.”

Thranduil glanced at the hobbit still quite taken aback by how impetus yet well-mannered he was. There was not a chance for Thranduil to be mad at him, not when Bilbo’s honesty and words came from a well-meant heart. There was no malice behind Bilbo’s actions, only a desire to make the world a better place. It was refreshing to have with him someone who had not ulterior motive other than the happiness of others.  It didn’t matter how wrong was the Halfling about his assumptions regarding Thranduil and Thorin.

“I haven’t visited because I am not eager to have a confrontation of wits with Thorin.” Thranduil replied the Elven-King looked around before returning his attention back to Bilbo. “It is what I want, but my desire has nothing to do with what Thorin may want. My presence will only complicate matters, better let Thorin recover until he can match my tongue.”

Bilbo snorted shaking his head; it was absurd to think the only way Thorin and Thranduil could relate one another was with words of anger or childish quarrel. But, he was a mere hobbit of the Shire, so he might as well let the matter rest until Thranduil had stopped running away for the inevitable.

Thranduil observed Bilbo with certain amusement; he continued his surveillance of the elves under his command when he was approached by an unexpected dwarf.

Dáin Ironfoot presented itself in front of the Elven-King, his dark eyes contemplating the King standing in front of him.  Bilbo stood beside Thranduil frowning under the leer coming from the dwarf leader, Bilbo turned to Thranduil realizing he wasn’t the only one noticing this unwanted attention.

“Ah, King Thranduil, a pleasure to finally meet you without your protectors.” Dáin approached the King quite pleased to see Thranduil didn’t step back but rather face him with coldness and indifference.

“Is there a reason why you were expecting to catch me without my guards, Dáin Ironfoot?”  Thranduil cocked his head staring boringly at the dwarf, but his arms were tense ready to take upon the sword resting on his hip. If the Elven-King had been paying attention he would have noticed Bilbo grabbing the handle of his own sword as well.

“No, of course not. I’ve come in peace.” The dwarf lifted his arms giving Thranduil a smirk. “It was my great desire to have a conversation of, perhaps, mutual interested for the both of us.”

Thranduil lifted his chin sharp eyes confronting Dáin, “I don’t believe there is anything you may be interested in that may held any interest to me.”

“You shouldn’t be so sure, Elven-King.” Dáin dropped his voice. “You can benefit of my attentions…I’ve heard there are some gems inside the mountain you desire. I can make your wish possible.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, there was something behind the dwarf in front of him, an ill-hidden intention Thranduil could no name nor quite place. The Elven-King shifted the weight of his body from one foot to the other, his left hand caressing tentatively the sheath of his sword. Even if there were men, elves and dwarves all around them Thranduil didn’t feel save; it would be such a shame to break the shaky peace among the three races only because he was under the silent threat of one of the leaders of the dwarves.

“Apparently, Dáin, you like giving away that which is not yours.”

Dáin transformed his face, the expression he had worn so freely moments ago changed into a grimace and then into something more solemn.

Thranduil froze on place not daring to turn to the source of the voice until Thorin Oakenshield was standing right beside him. The Elven-King looked down to see Thorin sneering at Dáin, Bilbo glanced the interaction with growing curiosity and apprehension. There it was again, the feeling of danger and tension in the air. He frowned while Thorin moved subtly to place himself between Thranduil and Dáin.

“Thorin, it is good to see you out of your bed.” Dáin bowed his head, but his gestures seemed derisive.

“I bet it is. I realized it was better if I take care of my Kingdom instead of letting others assumed they have rights over what is _mine_.”

Thranduil furrowed his brows in confusion whatever worry he might felt at the word _mine_ was soon replaced by the verbal confrontation between Thorin and Dáin. Thranduil noticed the weakened state Thorin was in, trembling slightly with cold sweat on his skin it only showed the dwarf was not ready to go around picking up fights of any kind. But Dáin was a relentless fighter, his words pocking at Thorin’s pride.

“Yours? My dear cousin, I don’t believe you have any ownership on gems that aren’t even yours nor part of your Kingdom.” Dáin snorted amusedly his eyes drifting towards Thranduil then back at Thorin. “I know first-hand could never follow your desires…but I’m not you, and I’m interested in pursuing certain exotic _desires…”_

“THORIN!”

Bilbo and Thranduil both screamed at the same time, Thorin had punched Dáin hard enough to draw blood from the other dwarf. It happened fast, one moment Thorin was trembling with weakness and tiredness, the other he was hitting Dáin violently until the other dwarf returned the punches with as much strength as Thorin.

Thranduil growled exasperated grabbing Thorin by his robes and putting him away from Dáin with a force none of the dwarves thought possible of the royal elf.  Dáin tried to stand up to go after Thorin but the cold contact of steel against his neck stopped him with effectiveness. Dáin spat on the ground glaring at Thranduil who was looking unimpressed at both dwarves.

“This ends here and now.” Thranduil’s voice was dangerously soft; his eyes were burning with anger. “I know not of the disagreements between dwarves but I won’t allow another confrontation collecting the lives of innocent people out on a whim.”

Bilbo pressed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, the hobbit stared at Thorin whose eyes were blank staring at nothing. The features of his face changed looking deranged for a moment just to go back to the lost, wounded expression. 

“Father!”

“Uncle!”

Legolas and Fíli approached the group, both of them looking worriedly at the Elven-King and then back at Thorin to finally see the bloodied face of Dáin. Bilbo locked his eyes with Fíli’s good one, but the hobbit could only shake his head letting the young heir know this was not the time for questions.

“Are you well, uncle?” Fíli kneeled down.

“I am, perhaps a little tired.” Thorin replied standing up rejecting the help from Bilbo and Fíli.

Dáin gave the presents one more glare before turning around and leaving; Legolas turned questioning eyes to his father but the Elven-King merely shook his head sheathing his sword. He turned to finally take into the form of Thorin Oakenshield.

The dwarf was still wounded, but he was well. Something inside Thranduil lifted and the elf felt lighter, more serene. He approached Thorin aware of the stares coming from Legolas and Bilbo; Thorin tensed confronting the Elven-King’s eyes with his own concealing whatever deranged illusion he had experienced back in his tent.

“It is a relief to see the future King Under the Mountain has recovered so satisfactorily.” Thranduil held his emotions in check, his hand twitching restlessly at his side.

Thorin scrutinized the elf in front of him, his mind screaming at him enticing voices pushing him to take the invaluable gem presented to him in the form of a handsome creature like Thranduil. Overwhelmed by the urge, Thorin started lifting his arm to reach forward. He caught himself on time, though, turning his head sharply to the side.

“I heard my recovery is thanks to the _attentions_ offered by the Elven-King of Mirkwood.” To anybody else, Thorin’s words might sound sincere although gruffly and reluctant. As if admitting an elf could do some good physically harmed him, which probably was the case.

However, to Bilbo there was something no right. Called it a gut feeling, but he sensed a subtle change in Thorin the moment they crossed Mirkwood. He had descended into madness after their incursion to the forest and when they got to the mountain…well, his madness had surfaced like a storm ready to punish even his family.

Thranduil bowed his head locking his eyes with Thorin’s, “It is but a simple action, something I wasn’t in position to do the first time.”

That was the closest Thorin would get to an apology, he snorted shaking his head tiredly. A part of him wanted to argue, to tell Thranduil he would have to do more than save his life to redeem his actions, but the agitation of the day had taken its toll on him. Thorin felt his knees buckle under him, his senses overwhelmed by the smell of autumn forest and dorwinion wine. Right before he gave into darkness, Thorin saw white light coming from the gemstone he was ready to kill for.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo knows there is something wrong with Thorin, Gandalf isn't worried yet. Meanwhile, Thorin and Thranduil decide to give in their own desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very well, warnings! I haven't written many sex scenes before just a few and all of them were a shy attempt at this kind of interaction. This time around I'm going to explore things deeper and try to be more explicit. Be patient with me, advises and critics are very welcome as long as you're nice and not rude about it. I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to comment!

**Chapter 3**

**Desire**

Bilbo Baggins realized he had spent most of his time during his adventure worrying over the dwarves. As Bilbo sat waiting for Gandalf to have a moment, the hobbit thought about all the times he had saved his friends, or those times in which he would be the only voice of reason. Bilbo found with certain fondness he had come to care for every single member of the company; which means he had come to know them pretty well.

Gandalf glanced at Bilbo observing with curiosity the seriousness the hobbit wore while approaching him. The morning was getting warmer as the sun moved to the highest point in the sky. Gandalf smiled putting out a pipe and a pouch filled with Bilbo’s favorite tobacco leaf.

“Bless you twice by the heavens, Gandalf!” Bilbo said taking the items from Gandalf, the wizard laughed sitting down right beside Bilbo.

Everyone around them seemed pretty busy while evading the private moment between the two friends. Bilbo took a deep drag before shaking his head; he glanced at Gandalf who had his eyes closed.

“Something is bothering you.” Gandalf finally broke the silence.

“I think there is something wrong with Thorin.” Bilbo replied turning his head to observed Thorin standing in the distance far too close to the Elven-King. There didn’t seem to be any interaction coming from them, Fíli and Legolas in between both Kings.

Gandalf followed the hobbits eyes furrowing his brows in wonderment, then softening his eyes he turned back at Bilbo who was looking rather upset.

“Whatever you mean, Bilbo? Are you sure is something wrong with Thorin?” Gandalf quirked a brow to Bilbo who blinked confusedly at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure is Thorin the problem and it has nothing to do with the closeness between King Thranduil and Thorin?”

Bilbo opened his mouth shaking his head, “N-No! Of course not! Whatever makes you think that?”

“It would be perfectly normal. Thorin is quite a strong dwarf, he could be quite appealing when he wants to be.” Gandalf replied shrugging.

“No, no it has nothing to do with that or his…” Bilbo pursed his lips shaking his head again. “Gandalf! I’m serious, I think there is something wrong with Thorin.”

Noticing the upset tone behind Bilbo’s words, Gandalf decided to pay attention to the hobbit. He glanced at Thorin then back at Bilbo.

“Very well, tell me what have you seen, Bilbo?”

“He is acting _strange_ , I don’t know how to describe it…he seems to still be… _protective_.” Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes, he just doesn’t look like himself.”

Gandalf regarded Bilbo for a long time, the wizard sighed taking a long draft from his pipe. He feared the gold sickness in Thorin wouldn’t be gone as fast as they wished it. Perhaps whatever Thorin had gone through during and after the battle hadn’t left him just yet.

“Thorin undergo a strange sickness, Bilbo. It is not easy to get rid of the feeling overnight.”

“I know, and I understand that. But, I don’t know…” Bilbo hesitated. “Tell me something, has he been so _openly_ close to the Elven-King?”

Gandalf returned his attention to Thorin but he could only see Thorin standing a space away from Thranduil, the dwarf appeared to be giving his attention to Fíli but he was too close to the elf for it to be a coincidence. Thranduil didn’t seem to bother by it, though.

“Why is this bothering so much?” Gandalf asked Bilbo, the hobbit shook his head furrowing his brows, his left hand finding its way into his pocket the could touch of the ring assuring him the jewelry was still there.

“I don’t know, I just do.” Bilbo then pursed his lips. “I know it sounds crazy, and it probably is but…can you help me watch over Thorin?”

Gandalf looked surprised by the request; however, he couldn’t say no. Not when Bilbo looked so genuinely concern.

“Of course, I will. I promise you, the moment I notice something strange I’ll intervene.”

Bilbo nodded feeling a little better; he didn’t take his eyes off of the dwarf as he sat back and enjoyed the last of his smoke. The mid-day sun touching his skin and warming him up.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin was driving himself mad.

He decided to play a dangerous game of being close to Thranduil while ignoring the elf completely. It had been hard for he still was in the process of recovering whereas the Elven-King was looking regal and powerful as always. He cast a shadow on top of Thorin who was trying very hard to move past it.

“They should all be buried on the same grave.” Thorin said suddenly much to everyone’s surprise.

Bard lifted his eyebrows surprised, Thranduil concealed his expression but his eyes showed a pleased glint. Legolas and Fíli looked at each other then back at Thorin; only Dáin seemed rather disgusted by the idea.  Thorin lifted his chin glancing around the group until his eyes fell upon Thranduil.

“They all die like heroes. Elves, men and dwarves. They should be buried like heroes.” Thorin said firmly. “It is the least I can do.”

“This is a wonderful idea, Thorin.” Thranduil spoke gifting Thorin with a half-smile.  “I believe the future King Under the Mountain is right. This may be the first step to forge a permanent alliance between the three races.”

Bard cocked his head nodding, regarding at Thranduil then at Thorin, “I think you may be right, King Thranduil. This is an amazing idea. Thank you for the offer, Thorin.”

Thorin tensed clenching his right hand before nodding curtly at Bard, “We can use the left hill closest to the mountain. Dáin, can you get some of your people to start working on the graves?”

Dáin faced Thorin with defiance in his stance; Thorin straightened himself up ignoring the sudden pain traveling from his still fresh wounds. It didn’t go unnoticed by either of the presents there was tension between the two dwarves, but no one dare to broke the silent struggle between the both of them.  Finally, Dáin gave Thorin a terse smirk.

“Of course, right away your majesty,” Dáin bowed mockingly at Dáin turning around and leaving the small council.

“You will forgive my intrusion, uncle.” Fíli started talking, he felt the weight of his uncle’s eyes on him and the young dwarf stopped talking for a moment.

Thorin then turned his eyes to Bard, Legolas and finally to Thranduil; “I’ll take care of Dáin, Fíli. As long as the Arkenstone is in my power, there is nothing to fear.”

Fíli hesitated furrowing his brows but it was Thranduil the next to speak, as he did so he placed a hand on Fíli’s shoulder. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Thorin who suddenly got the urge to push his nephew aside. Thorin clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with silent resentment only visible in the dark shadow of his eyes.

“I believe young what young Fíli here was trying to say is you shouldn’t allow Dáin so free rein around the camp. Even if those dwarves are from the Iron Hills, it is you they would listen to.”

Thranduil spoke slowly but firmly, his eyes never once leaving Thorin who seemed far too interested on the position of Thranduil’s hand on Fíli’s shoulder.

“I think you should send Dwalin, uncle. Dáin seem scare of him, perhaps he could help us supervise Dáin.” Fíli tried again.

Thorin shoot Fíli a withering glance stepping forward, Fíli held his uncle’s stare with his single eye; but he couldn’t deny he suddenly felt froze to the spot. It was only the reassuring hand of the Elven-King on his right shoulder what made him feel secure.  

“I am King, am I not?” Thorin asked dangerously low.

Fíli furrowed his brows, “Yes, uncle, you are. I’ve never implied…”

Thorin then did something strange under the eyes of the presents, he placed his own hand on top of Thranduil’s one. Legolas tensed his hand going to the sword on his side, but Thorin merely took Thranduil’s hand off of Fíli’s shoulder. The Elven-King couldn’t help but felt a shiver traveling up his hand to the rest of his body. For a brief moment he crossed stares with Thorin sensing there was more the dwarf was ready to do.

“Then, in the name of your King you will care and supervise everything Dáin does.” Thorin said his voice changing so suddenly Fíli felt baffled. “You can take Dwalin with you, but you are my future heir, Fíli. It is about time you show the others this.”

Fíli broke into a smile nodding at his uncle, “I’ll do it right away, uncle.”

Thorin watched Fíli leave quickly making his way towards Dwalin; the dwarf felt Thranduil right beside him, his head jerked slightly but his eyes reminded evading the Elven-King’s ones.

“That was a nice thing to say, Thorin.” Thranduil said suddenly. “Fíli would make a fine heir someday; he just needs for you to give him a chance.”

“Since when are you so familiar with my nephew? Why do you seem so close to him?”

The questions caught Thranduil by surprise but the Elven-King recovered quickly enough; he smirked leaning forward until he was face to face with Thorin. Thorin gazed at Thranduil with darkened eyes, his own lips twitching into a demanding sneer.

“I did take care of you and your nephews, Thorin. It was Fíli the first one to wake up; he is quite amiable and rather smart.” Thranduil tilted his head so his eyes were looking directly into Thorin’s ones. “I was pleasantly surprise he didn’t inherit any of your troublesome or more irksome features. He is, indeed, the son of Lady Dís.”

Thorin grunted crossing his arms; Thranduil was enjoying the sudden behavior from Thorin. It was strange and pleasant to have the dwarf’s attention on him. Forgetting for a moment they weren’t alone Thranduil decided to push his luck just a tad.

“Although, I do have to say, it was young Kíli the one to inherit your attractiveness.”

Thranduil straightened himself up he turned around giving his attention to Bard. Bard and Thranduil walked away leaving Thorin behind playing Thranduil’s words inside his head over and over until the dwarf grunted angrily and went back to his tent.

Legolas followed his father until he too was left alone. The young elf walked faster until he had caught up with his father.

“Why did you do that? What do you gain by telling such words to Thorin Oakenshield?” Legolas demanded of his father.

Thranduil couldn’t help but smirk, he glanced at Legolas out of the corner of his eyes before answering the questions of his son.

“It is rather amusing to make Thorin work up over nothing.”

Legolas crossed his arms looking around before turning his attention back to his father, “I’ve seen the way you look at him, father.”

Thranduil faltered on his steps, he stopped completely turning to face Legolas only to see his son walking away from him. For a moment Thranduil stood there musing over Legolas words, a part of hi knew he shouldn’t been playing with Thorin. But another part enjoyed greatly the sudden show of jealousy from Thorin. Whether it was because of Fíli or Thranduil himself, the Elven-King wasn’t sure; the more vain part of him was hoping it was him Thorin was thinking about. But wishful thinking had never been a good advisor, thus Thranduil dismissed this thoughts. The Elven-King lifted his head to watch the blue sky above his head; he knew he would have to have a serious talk with Legolas in the near future. For now, he would just try and survive the reconstruction of their Kingdoms until he could go back to his Realm and ignore all the feelings Thorin Oakenshield awoke in him.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Night had fallen fast covering the sky above their heads with the forms of the stars. There was no moon, but the lights coming from the torches around the camp were enough to keep the site illuminated during the night. The cold breeze made the guards shivered but never faltered in their duty of watching over the tired soldiers, the wounded and the fallen.  

Thorin moved into the night, he felt like a thief as he walked slowly and silently making his way to the Royal tent of King Thranduil. The dwarf walked with some difficulty, but his eyes were burning with resolution as he approached the tent. His hand wrapped around the silver circlet, the perfect excuse to go over the ghost inside his dreams. For more than three days Thranduil had denied Thorin of his presence. It didn’t matter how many times Thorin demanded his attention; the Elven-King seemed to find a perfect excuse to refuse him. The dwarf felt a stabbing pain on his chest; he could not think or act properly as his mind kept on playing tricks on him. He _needed_ Thranduil, there was not denying this intense yearning in his heart. Thorin had tried to deny it, he had tried so hard to just shut his mind and hate the elf; but it had been no possible. Whatever trick the elf had worked on him, Thorin would make him pay in kind.

Thranduil was taking the last of his garment until he was left with his chest naked and his legs covered by a pair of white loose pants. He looked tiredly at the improvised mirror while hearing the report from his son; Legolas found himself speaking tiredly about the elves that had lost their lives during the battle.  The funeral would take place the next day in a single place prepare to bury the heroes of the battle; men, dwarves and elves would be buried as equals. As allies.

“What are we going to do after the funeral, father? Are we staying here or are we leaving?” Legolas centered his attention on his father; the Elven-King turned slowly facing his son for a long time before answering.

“We promised Bard we would help him and his people. After the battle, after everything that had happened, I am inclined to offer our help to Thorin Oakenshield as well.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes staring at his father with suspicion; it hadn’t gone unnoticed on the Prince how Thranduil seemed to behave strangely around Thorin.  Legolas had noticed just how worried Thranduil was when they helped Thorin, or whenever Thranduil was left alone with the dwarf. Even before the attack from the dragon, Legolas had grown suspicious about his father’s interest for Thorin.  Thranduil faced his son quirking his left eyebrow with a hint of defiance in his eyes; Legolas hesitated but finally he decided to confront his father.

“Why? Why do you seem to care so much about the dwarf?” Legolas scowled shaking his head. “You told me you didn’t care about one dead dwarf and the next moment I saw you fighting alongside one, fighting for one. What changed?”

Thranduil approached his son slowly, lifting his right hand to place it softly on the blond hair. The Elven-King smiled at his son, but there was something sad in there.

“This quarrel with dwarves had gone for far too long, Legolas.” Thranduil spoke softly; Legolas seemed uncomfortable crossing his arms petulantly to which his father couldn’t help but smile fondly at him. “There are some things I can’t explain even to myself, son. Thorin Oakenshield is one of these matters I’m still trying to decipher.”

“Do you…” Legolas trailed off standing up, Thranduil tilted his head curious as to what Legolas would say next. “Is there anything I should be worried about? Is your heart in danger of losing itself to an impossible, unnatural _business?”_

Thranduil stared into his son’s eyes for a long time, something inside him stung at the words coming from Legolas. _Unnatural_. Yes, everything Thranduil desired and felt for Thorin was unnatural. The Elven-King shook his head moving away from his soon who realized, too late, he had hurt his father.

“Father…”

Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal, turning to busy himself with something on his improvised table.

“Go, you need to rest and I believe I will do the same. We will talk in the morning.”

Legolas hesitated his eyes downcast as he bowed respectfully to his father before leaving the King’s tent.  Thranduil was left alone with his stormy thoughts about the confrontation inside his heart. Longing the forbidden had always been his best quality; he still remembered having yearned for the love and touch of Beleg only to find himself rejected by an elf who had already given his love to another. Thranduil lifted his face, a gasp escaping his lips when he realized he wasn’t alone. There at the entrance of his tent was Thorin, his eyes darker than the Elven-King remembered them being.

Thorin swallowed hearing the beating of his heart, his hands going all sweaty while his mind stopped working on any coherent thoughts. Thranduil turned slowly to face the dwarf, his eyes gleaming strangely when he noticed just how odd Thorin seemed to be acting.

“Thorin? What are you doing here so late?” Thranduil spoke realizing his voice sounded weak, soft in the middle of the tent.

Thorin tilted his head taking a step forward, then another. Slowly, he made his way towards Thranduil who suddenly felt a pressure on his lower stomach, his heart beating fast while his eyes locked with Thorin’s ones. The dwarf stopped a mere inches away from Thranduil, and the Elven-King noticed the height difference meant nothing under the strength hidden behind Thorin’s dark eyes.

“You forgot this on my tent.” Thorin smirked  a dark shadow crossing his eyes as he took noticed of the shivering Elven-King in front of him; his dark, deep voice making the Elven-King’s eyes darkened with _want_.

“I thought, perhaps, I could return it to you since you seemed so reluctant to attend to my calls.”  The hint of reproach didn’t go amiss to the Elven-King; Thorin allowed his eyes a sweet take of the naked chest in front of him. Thranduil watched with growing fascination and apprehension as Thorin’s dark eyes grazed every inch of Thranduil’s body.

“I am glad I decided to pay you a visit, O Elven-King…For my eyes and mind seem spellbound to a light far beyond more precious that any gem or jewel under the mountain.” Thorin lifted his right hand, time stopping still as Thranduil observed that hand wearing a single ring approaching his naked skin. “And now all I can think off is of its beauty and a chance to worship it with my hands…”

The night was completely silent, and Thranduil was left speechless at the declaration. The Elven-King felt his heart beat with longing, but his mind was poking at him with warning signs.

A warning buzzing lifted inside Thorin’s head as his fingertips hovered just millimeters away from the naked chest of Thranduil. Thranduil closed his eyes, but his mind screamed at him telling him there was something off about this situation; the Elven-King looked down on Thorin to see the dwarf’s conflictive expression.  Thorin had stopped under an internal struggle never noticing Thranduil was looking back at him with a plea at the tip of his tongue.

Thorin lowered his hand, never quite touching Thranduil but teasing the elf with the warm coming from his palm. The air caught on Thranduil’s throat when Thorin approached his crotch only to have that hand jerked away and returned to Thorin’s side.

Tension raised between them, Thorin clenched his fists while taking a step forward. He could hear the voice inside his head, it was enticing, it felt so easy to just _obey_ what it said; the dwarf shook his head turning around to make his way to the table. Thranduil was left with fear piercing his heart, he followed the dwarf with his eyes tempted to follow Thorin.

“Here it is your circlet.” Thorin placed the garment on the closest table never once turning around to look at Thranduil. “I better leave.”

It was the strangest moment Thranduil had ever experienced. His heart had begged him to give in, to grab Thorin and be over with both of their suffering and yearning. But, Thranduil’s mind told him there was something strange about Thorin. Thranduil couldn’t help but remember the hint of fear he felt when Thorin had looked up to him; Thranduil made his way to the circlet looking at it absentmindedly.  He let the fingers of his left hand caressed the harsh material of his crown just as his right arm moved to position his hand above his abdomen;  with a heavy breathing Thranduil allowed his right hand sneaked past his white pants. His mind was focused on one single memory. Thorin looking up at him while trying to touch him. Have Thranduil be younger, he wouldn’t have hesitated to make the dwarf take him as he pleased; the mere heated look Thorin had sent his way when he first entered the tent made something inside Thranduil stirred, something ancient and wild he had felt the moment he laid eyes on Thorin.

Thranduil felt the weight of his fingers caressing the softness of his skin; Thranduil moved past the barrier his white pants represented hearing the fastening beat of his heart. While it was truth a part of Thranduil had been afraid, another part of him had been aroused. Thorin appeared to be wild, primal as he approached him and Thranduil hold to the memory as his hand found its destination. He was already hard, sensitive under the touch of his fingers the Elven-King let out a gasp when he closed his right palm around his heated cock. Thranduil then gave in, lost with the memories of Thorin, and lost in his own desire to notice anything but his own pleasure.

If Thranduil had paid attention, he would have noticed he wasn’t the only one indulging in self-satisfaction.  Thorin clenched his eyes shut stroking himself fast and hard as he drown in Thranduil’s own moans.

 

 


	4. Whispers in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is hearing voices that tell him he shouldn't be afraid to have what he so desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Very well, I'm still trying to figure out somethings but I would really appreciate your opinion about this chapter. I hope you enjoy it and happy reading.

**Chapter 4**

**Whispers in the dark**

The valley spreading in front of the Lonely Mountain was filled with tired warriors, all of them facing the space in which Thorin, Thranduil and Bard stood solemnly while the bodies of the fallen were buried. Silence filled the moment in which many said good-bye to fathers, sons, brothers and friends; Thranduil glanced at the bodies of his elves, the ones he had seen grown up and followed him to the very end and the horrors of Doriath and the battle of the Last Alliance hunted his thoughts. He lifted his chin tensing his body while tried to bury the memories, to his side Bard couldn’t help but stared at the burial and, once in a while, stared back at Thranduil. The Elven-King was a force on its own, and emotions were visible in him if you were too looked closely. Thorin from his part clenched his fist, his dark eyes glancing at the mountain while his thoughts drifted darkly to the still untouched treasure; he knew after the funeral, after everything was said and done with the fallen negotiations would come again. The weight of the Arkenstone on his pocket wasn’t enough to reassure him of the reign of the mountain, he would have to fight to reclaim what was his.

_The treasure…so much gold and gems of high value…_

_The Arkenstone gives you kingly right…but only he can fill the void in your heart…_

_Take him…the Line of Durín had never had to ask for what they claimed as theirs…_

Thorin clenched his jaw trying to silence the growing voice inside his head, he looked out of the corner of his eyes and for a moment his eyes found those of Bard. All Thorin could see in Bard’s eyes was desire directed to the Elven-King, and Thorin felt enrage because twice had this son of men tried to claim and take what was Thorin’s in the first place.

Bilbo furrowed his brows when he realized Thorin was trembling, the hobbit leaned in to see Thranduil still focused on the burial and Bard glancing to the Elven-King once in a while. Bilbo bit his lower lip making sure to place a calming hand on Thorin if it was necessary.

However, something curious happened, something that left Bilbo thoughtful.

Just when it was obvious Thorin was about to do something foolish the Elven-King placed a single hand on top of Thorin’s shoulder. The King wasn’t even looking at the dwarf; he just did with a sorrowful expression on his face. But this was enough to make Thorin relax, Bilbo watched Thorin lowering his eyes while giving in the simple gesture.

Thranduil turned around to face Thorin for the first time; the Elven-King glanced into those deep, dark eyes trying to silence the memories of the night before.

“I thank you for this, Thorin.” Thranduil finally said. “Let this be our first foundation at peace and cooperation between our people.”

Thorin lifted his eyes facing Thranduil with a strange gleam in them, the dwarf felt the sudden urge to bring Thranduil closer, his heart was beating fast and he was starting to sweat. Everything around them seemed forgotten when the rough, calloused hand of Thorin placed itself on top of Thranduil’s one. Thranduil opened his eyes slightly, glancing at their barely joined hands then back at Thorin.

“There is still a long road, Elven-King. But I believe we will found other ways to join our people in the near future.” Those words left Thorin’s lips in a dark promise, the dwarf squeezed Thranduil’s hand before letting go.

Thranduil stood there for a moment, glancing at the retreating back of Thorin. Legolas stood to his father’s side, his hand never once leaving the handle of his sword.

The day was spent in relatively calm, many of the survivors were having silent drink in the memory of the fallen, all of them wishing war was over and only peace would be ahead of them. Each and every single one of them had tasted the realities of battle and none of them wish to repeat it. They had but one day of rest while their leaders were getting ready to decide on the next step.

Thranduil moved down the valley to the main entrance of the mountain, Thorin was already there in whispered council with Balin, Dwalin and Gloin. Bilbo lifted his head and smiled widely at the approaching Elven-king.

“Master Baggins, how are you fairing this morning?”

For some reason, the Elven-King felt enamored with hobbit. Bilbo was a simple person he would worry about food and comfort but he could become a mighty warrior if circumstances demanded it of him. His words usual held the truth many who are used to the lies weren’t capable of.

“My Lord, I have to say this was a sad morning.” Bilbo looked at the burial hill then back at the King. “It was my first time attending a funeral like this one. Let’s hope we only have to attend the good-byes of the elder in the near future.”

“Well said, Master Baggins. And let’s hope the Valar themselves hear you.” Thranduil tilted his head feeling the weight of a heavy stare on him, when he turned he saw Thorin looking at him intently.

“And, how is the future King Under the Mountain?”

“Grumpy as always.” Bilbo retorted making Thranduil and Legolas laugh.

“Are you sure it is wise to talk about him this way?” Legolas asked rather amused, Bilbo smile cheekily at the Elven Prince.

“I speak nothing but the truth and Thorin has yet to contradict me.”

“He seems to care about you a great deal.” Legolas commented glancing at Bilbo but also paying close attention to his father.

Bilbo blinked surprised but Thranduil could only tense while looking at the place where Thorin was now in conversation with Balin.

“Well, we’ve been through a lot.” Bilbo finally said shrugging. “I care for him, for all of them. Regardless of what you may think, they are good dwarves.”

Legolas snorted but gave Bilbo a brief nod, Bilbo chuckled shaking his head at how stubborn dwarves and elves were. Thranduil sighed looking at the darkening sky above them.

“It’s going to rain.” The Elven-King finally said.

“Lately, stormy clouds seem to be following Thorin.” Bilbo said softly.

“What do you mean by that, Bilbo?” Thranduil asked furrowing his brows; Bilbo lifted his eyes to the Elven-King.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed, my Lord. I’m afraid some shadows still haunt Thorin.” Bilbo shook his head. “I wish this gold sickness business was easily healed like a cold or a headache with food and some sleep.”

Legolas couldn’t help it, he started laughing and his laughter was so clear and honest even Thranduil smiled at a little at his son’s antics. Bilbo mocked glare at the young elf crossing his arms for he felt he was the target of such laughter.

“What have I done to amuse you so much, Legolas?”

“I’m sorry, Master Baggins. I just…you are a marvelous creature.” Legolas finally said, his eyes still gleaming with amusement. “To think a sickness such as the love for gold and greed could be so easily healed. We all wish it was like that, I’ve seen so much I sometimes forget the simple things.”

Bilbo pursed his lips nodding his head, “Very well, seeing as it was an honest laugh I will let it slide.”

Legolas bowed at Bilbo under the stare of his father, Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulders giving him a soft smile of his own. When the Elven-King turned, once again, to the entrance of the mountain Thorin was looking back at him, along with the rest of the dwarves.

“I believe it is time for us to approach Thorin.” Thranduil glanced at Bilbo in his eyes gleaming a silent warning. The hobbit blinked for a moment before deciding he would do what he had been doing as of late: observed and heard whatever may be out of place.

At least now he was sure not only Gandalf but the Elven-King had been warned about his concerns.

*****

“It is still unclear to me why do I have to share any of the treasure so many dwarves die defending!” Thorin replied forcefully.

Balin furrowed his brows glancing at Thorin, “You made a promise, Thorin. Many died not to defend the treasure but our lives; many sacrifice themselves for you to be here and now.”

Thorin crossed his arms stubbornly glancing once in a while to the place where the Elven-King seemed to be engaging Bilbo in a nice conversation. The dwarf was torn between his pride and what he had conceded when the battle had started. A part of Thorin knew it was only fair, many died and Dale had been destroyed for a second time all because of Thorin and his company. But Thorin couldn’t help he also had a legitimate claim to the treasure, every single coin; gem and other precious thing under the mountain belong to him as the future King. Wasn’t that the idea of re-claiming Erebor? Of sending a burglar to recover the Arkenstone? If Thorin were to yield in these matters, men and elves would expect him to do so again in the future.

The treasure was his by right of conquest and inheritance.

For the briefest moments, Thorin’s eyes changed into a darker color but as soon as this happen Thorin shook his head turning towards a worried Balin and Dwalin.  Thorin rubbed the ring on his hand while trying to collect himself.

“I’m not happy about this. Gloin, are you and the others finished with the cataloguing?”

“Yes, most of it, there is only a small part left.” Gloin answered eyeing Thorin cautiously. “I’m not sure, but perhaps you could look over some of the things we’ve have collected. Some of them look elvish or even man-made.”

This was the closest Gloin dared to tell Thorin most of the treasure wasn’t even part of Erebor or even of Dwarven precedence. Thorin scowled at the dwarf, pursing his lips while glancing away. Again, his eyes found Thranduil in the distance, now with the young Elven-Prince laughing at something.

_White gems of pure starlight…He desires them…the gems off an old lover, of the holder of his heart…the gems he would bargain for…_

Thorin was half hearing what other explanation Balin was giving him about the treasure, he could barely understand what Dwalin replied or the small discussion held by the brothers. The future King Under the Mountain was centering his attention on the Elven-King, the damn elf didn’t even know how attractive he was under the gloomy light of the on-coming storm. He wasn’t even aware of the royal blue he wore accentuating his broad shoulders and slender body, the form of a warrior with the weight of time on his shoulders.

“Dáin is already inside with Bard, I believe it is time we invite the Elven-King to this meeting.” Balin said tentatively, Thorin shook his head turning to stare at his friend. “Thorin, are you well?”

Thorin grimaced placing his hand on the hilt of Orcrist, the ring on his finger pressing against the sensitive flesh.

“I don’t like Dáin.” Thorin finally said, this only earned him strange looks from Balin and Dwalin. “I don’t like the way he keeps looking over at Thranduil or how he keeps trying to get over me. I need you to keep a close eye on him, the three of you.”

“We will.”

Dwalin glanced at Balin mouthing to his brother the name of the Elven-King when Thorin wasn’t looking. Balin could only shake his head knowing this was a conversation for another time, when Thorin wouldn’t be there denying his buried feelings for the elf.

*****

 The inside of the mountain was still magnificent.

Thranduil remembered a time of old, in which he would come and go into these halls to establish weak treaties and shaky alliances.  AT that time, Thrór needed the Elven-King’s help as much as Thranduil needed theirs, but the Dwarven-King had been stubborn, prideful and had tried to submit Thranduil at his will. In the Elven-King’s heart were many regrets, but his biggest one was to never try to reach Thráin or even Thorin when he realized the sickness consuming Thrór’s live.

Balin and Gloin decided to take the very first part of the negotiations; soon the elves joined Bard and the people who came with him and Dáin, who smiled at Thranduil before securing his place beside the Elven-King; the tension between Thorin, Dáin and even Thranduil was evident but it was only under Legolas and Bilbo’s watchful eyes these tension was unfolding itself. Soon the negotiators were joined by Gandalf, Fíli, Kíli and even Tauriel who had been visiting some of the halls in the mountain.

The Main Hall had been completely destroyed by Smaug when the dragon had gone to take his revenge in Dale, Balin and Gloin explained how them started removing some of the stones and fixing the entrance with the help of the dwarves of the Iron Hills.

Darkness soon covered them and only a few torches ignited alongside the wall provided enough light for men and elves alike. Thorin found himself sharing the same space as Thranduil, both of them taking slow, yet secure footsteps ahead deep into the mountain. From time to time, Dáin would make a comment or engaged Thranduil in small talk, the Elven-King would answer coldly, and detached of the obvious interested Dáin was showing. Thorin from his part couldn’t speak, he was biting on his tongue to hold himself from the sudden urge to break Dáin’s nose.

Thorin felt torn as they approached the chamber holding the treasure, he closed his eyes walking slowly while trying to contain his thoughts. It was impossible to not feel the burning need to take every single person around him down and show them who was King. He saw Bard grabbing the riches of the mountain, claiming them part of the world of Men before killing him and his nephews. Then, it would Dáin mocking Dáin who would grab the Arkenstone and Thranduil for himself. Little by little, enchanting images of what he could lose started filling Thorin’s mind making him fear and sweat under the pressure of his chest.

“We have catalogue everything and discover some of the possessions of Dale.” Balin explained pointing at specific corner. “I believe after we’re done you and your people can reclaim what is theirs.”

Bard looked around with wide, open eyes shocked at the amount of gold Smaug had collected during the years. Not soon had he thought this, Bard remember the lost lives during the battle, he remembered the crazy state in which Thorin found himself the first time the came here. Bard turned to Thorin but the dwarf was looking ahead of him with a serious expression in place.

“Thank you, Master Balin.” Bard then turned to Thorin bowing his head as well. “And thank you, Thorin son of Thráin, I’m happy to see this time around negotiations are going to be possible.”

There was a strange flickering in Thorin’s eyes, he was tensed and his eyes found a spot deep into one of the many golden hills, Gandalf furrowed his brows watching with care how Thorin would clench his fists taking deep breaths.

“Negotiations weren’t about to be possible since you came with an army behind.” Thorin replied dryly. “You and the Elven-King came to my doorstep with the intent to…”

A calming hand placed itself on top of Thorin’s shoulder, Thorin’s mind clear in a second filled with warm and light at the touch. Thorin looked around shaking his head and glancing back at the hand of the Elven-King.

“Never mind that, you are right. This time around, there will be negotiations.”

The tension in the room broke ad everyone continued the exploration of the chamber; Legolas glanced at his father who was still firmly beside Thorin glancing down at the dwarf. However, soon he was distracted by Tauriel and Thorin was given a chance with the Elven-King.

“Is there anything the Elven-King of Mirkwood desires?” Thorin asked suddenly, making sure his voice was but a whisper meant for the elf.

Thranduil quirked a brow his hand tightening his hold on Thorin, Thranduil stared down on Thorin for a few seconds before lifting his eyes to look around.

“Only one thing I desire from the King Under the Mountain.” He replied just as softly, no one seemed to be paying attention to them and Thorin took this chance to feel the skin of the elf under his fingertips.

The hand was cold and soft; Thorin caressed the knuckles never taking his eyes from the elf’s face. Thranduil swallowed while evading any kind of eye contact with Thorin or else he feared his lustful desires would try to seek comfort. Still, Thranduil didn’t take his hand away and the touch coming from Thorin was igniting in him something pleasant and dangerous.

“And what that may be? What can the King Under the Mountain do to please the Elven-King?” Thorin let his fingertips dance to the wrist, his voice soft and husky sending shivers down Thranduil’s back.

Thranduil leaned in, his lips quirking upwards as he approached Thorin, slowly but surely he placed his face beside Thorin’s face and whisper in his ear.

“That what is mine.” Thranduil susurrated. “The necklace your grandfather denied me so long ago.”

And, with those words hanging in between them, Thranduil walked away leaving  Thorin dumbstruck with his heart beating fast, his hand remembering the texture of the Elven-King’s skin and his body wearing the signs of lustful desire. He didn’t move until the clear laughter of Thranduil reached his eyes, his eyes darkened dangerously as he followed the Elven-King who soon joined Bard and Dáin.

_Take him…own him…mark him…O, King Under the Mountain you have been mocked…are you allowing this insult? Are you allowing others to possess what you so fervently desire?_

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil didn’t know why he did it.

Perhaps it was because the damn dwarf was making him remembered how long had it been since he allowed anyone to touch him. Or maybe, it was because Thorin had a power over him not even Thorin himself was aware of. Thranduil hated it, he hated Thorin had this kind of effect on him, how with a single stare, a smile, even a frown Thranduil would feel his heart beat a tad bit faster, how his cold exterior would warm for the dwarf. He wished he could call his feeling for Thorin desire, lust…but, he couldn’t lie to himself. Not when Thorin was finally paying attention to him, not when the possibility of a connection with him was more real than ever.

“I haven’t seen the sky so furious before.” Bilbo stuck out his head to feel the biting cold on his face accompanied by heavy drops of rain. The sky brought into silver and bluish light followed by the resounding claim of thunder.

Bilbo went back inside the mountain where most of the people who were still camping outside had taken refuge. Thranduil nodded glancing outside Erebor to the now misty panorama.

“Indeed, however, we can take this rain as an attempt to cleanse the lands of the orcs blood.” Thranduil glanced back at Bilbo who put his pipe out nodding.

“It’s a noble thought, and thus I’m going to believe it and thank, then, for the blessings of the rain.”

Thranduil chuckled shaking his head, “You better not stay here, Master Baggins. I heard you have already caught a cold back in Dale, it wouldn’t do any good if you were to do so again.”

“You shouldn’t either.” Bilbo replied. “I don’t know much about elves catching cold, but it’s better to not find out, right?”

Thranduil turned his head back to see Thorin in the distance, “More than getting sick, I believe is getting cold. I believe I will follow your advice, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo followed the elf’s eyes that were centered on Thorin; Thranduil lowered his head bidding Bilbo a good afternoon before making his way to where the elves had stationed themselves.

Thorin from his part was hearing as Kíli spoke with enthusiasm to Tauriel, his retelling of the battle against Azog was clearly an exaggeration but the she-elf didn’t seem to care. In truth, neither did Thorin or Fíli who was rolling his only good eye.

“Are you fine with this?” Fíli finally asked in confidence to his uncle, Thorin furrowed his brows at his nephew for a moment before speaking.

“No, a part of me wants to forbid this union. A part of me wants to throw the elves out of the mountain and see them suffer under the weather befalling outside.” Thorin replied with all honesty, he then turned to Kíli whose laughter filled the room, “But your brother is happy.”

“And, what about the elves?” Fíli commented, Thorin tilted his head to make sure he was staring into Fíli’s good eye.

“I thought you were friends with the Elven-King, did he do something to you?”

“No, but I’m starting to believe he did something to you, uncle.” Fíli retorted much to his uncle’s chagrin. “I just want to make sure peace is the only thing in your mind, uncle. Yes, the elves wronged us in the past, but we are now living in the present looking forward to the future.”

Thorin had to look away to hide his rage, it came to him out of nowhere. A sudden urge to subdue Fíli for his insolence, even when a part of Thorin knew his nephew was speaking with wisdom beyond his age. Fíli tried to seek his uncle’s eyes in concern, but Thorin remained at a safe distance until, finally he wrapped a hand around his nephew’s forearm.

“I understand you are talking with each passing day as a King, Fíli.” Thorin then placed his hand on the nape of his nephew’s neck, Fíli smiled brilliantly at his uncle.

“I just want to make you proud.”

“You do.” Thorin smiled gently at him. “You are right. It will take a long time but, at least from my part, I don’t want any more wars.”

Tauriel’s laughter reached them, when they turned around they saw Kíli looking lovingly at the she-elf who was smiling at him with the same expression. Thorin rolled his eyes while Fíli made gagging gestures.

“If I were to be honest with you, I’m just waiting to see mother’s face when Kíli introduces Tauriel to her.”

“I believe I do not want to be present.” Thorin replied. “Your mother will skin me alive not only because you and Kíli got hurt but also because I allow a union between those two without her present.”

“Another reason to look forward for mother’s return.” Fíli laughed walking away from his uncle and joining his brother and his fiancée leaving Thorin watching over them with affection.

Thorin sat back on his chair while looking ahead of himself. There in the Main Hall where his people, the dwarves of the Iron Hills who were already speaking of coming back to Erebor and start a new life there. He watched over the men who were mingling among dwarves and elves alike. Everyone seemed to be living in a tired cooperation. The rain outside had made them seek refuge in the mountain and now they were face with one another. But, there was no animosity; at least everyone seemed to be civil.

In the distance, where the personal guard of King Thranduil was resting, Thorin could see the Elven-King himself engaged in some sort of discussion with Bard and Legolas.

For a moment Thorin felt helpless, Bard was tall, well-build and he almost reached the Elven-king. The man was born to be king even if his right had been taken away by circumstances. Thorin observed with uttered sorrow and longing, he clenched his fist when he realized whatever feeling he was harboring for the Elven-King would never be returned. He was a fool, as he had always been.

_Take what you want…_

Thorin gritted his teeth; the voice filling his head was so enticing.

_You know what to do…_

The dwarf shifted on the chair glancing at Thranduil with renewed desire. Thranduil had come to him earlier in the treasure chamber, Thorin could still smell the Elven-King, could still feel his warm under his fingertips. His voice was engraved in the mind of the dwarf.

_He desires you…take him…_

Then, Thorin lost the battle inside of him.

Whatever was happening to him, whatever the reason as to why he felt the primal need to possess and make the Elven-King scream in pleasure; Thorin was ready to do what any other King would do in his place: He was ready to conquer.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Night had fallen around them; the fires were burning warming the inhabitants of the mountain while the heavens kept with its unmerciful wrath. They had posted several guards around the entrance but, in general, everyone was having a much reserved rest after the day’s activities.

Thranduil was resting his back against the closest column; his eyes were shinning merrily at the sight of his son being turned between pleasing Bilbo and hating on Fíli. In the end, Legolas decided to play the game of competition with Fíli, his eyebrow twitching at Kíli’s urging and Tauriel’s laughter.

While everyone seemed to be falling asleep or rest peacefully, this part of the mountain was full of live with the most unexpected friendship forming in between.

“Why are you so far away from them?” Thranduil tensed when the deep voice of Thorin reached him. He didn’t turn but he sense when Thorin placed himself beside him.

“I didn’t want your nephews to feel intimidate.” Thranduil replied glancing at Thorin.

Thorin raised a brow snorting, “I don’t think my nephews feel intimidate by you.”

Thranduil shrugged but couldn’t say anything else when his eyes found Thorin’s dark ones. The sheer, unadulterated desire he saw behind those dark orbs was enough to make Thranduil falter. Thorin tilted his head, his lips drawing a strange smirk.

“I have never noticed how enchanting the figure of the Elven-King is in the midst of pyre fires.” Thorin commented moving closer to Thranduil.

“I never realized you were such a sweet taker, Thorin. I always thought you were much like your grandfather.” Thranduil replied recovering his cold façade while his mind lifted warning signs. “Speaking your mind without any regard of intelligence or proper conversation.”

“Hn, I am more than a sweet talker, I’ve been told my ways are more convincing that those of my grandfather.” Thorin replied shrugging. “I do not care for proper conversation when dealing with unpredictable allies, and my intelligence is for me to know and you to keep ignoring.”

Thranduil worked his mind around the strange conversation, he didn’t know what exactly they were discussing but he knew there was something else Thorin had come looking for. The Elven-King turned his back to his son and the gathering around the fire to face Thorin. He stood his full height in front of the dwarf, tilting his head while gleaming, blue eyes sought answers from Thorin.

“What is it you want, Thorin?” Thranduil asked bluntly, Thorin’s smirk grew nodding graciously at him.

“Are you sure, O Elven-King, you want me to answer the question?”

Thranduil almost falter in his expressionless face, but he remained serious while regarding Thorin.

“Peace, I want peace…” But as Thorin said this, something in his voice change sending a shiver of pure pleasure down Thranduil’s back. “You once told me, a long time ago; of your desire to visit my forefather’s resting places, did you not?”

Again there it was, the sudden change of topic, how Thorin seemed inconsistent with everything he did or spoke. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Thorin nodding briefly; Thorin transformed his smirk into a more inviting smile.

“Then, if you’re not too opposed or if you’re not afraid, come with me.”

Thranduil stood completely baffled watching as Thorin left without looking back, not even once. Many things crossed the Elven-King’s mind, many warning and many desires. His own heart was beating for more than carnal needs, his own body was screaming for release. He watched the retreating form of Thorin turning right and disappearing into the darkness of the mountain. Thranduil hesitated. Before making sure he wasn’t being observed, Thranduil took a step forward and then another. Sad would be the day he would allow Thorin to mock him or believe he had the upper hand in whatever game the dwarf was proposing.

Thranduil turned to the right and soon was submerged in a world of darkness. His elven eyes tried to adjust while his hand sought comfort on the wall around him. He took a step forward and then another, his ears twitched when he caught the sound of footsteps ahead of him.  The Elven-king didn’t know much about Erebor except from those places he had been taken years ago; the tombs of the dwarves had been one of the many forbidden places Thranduil hadn’t seen and wished to visit.

Why was Thorin acceding to show him this? He didn’t know but was ready to whatever the dwarf had prepared for him.

“So, you did follow me after all.” Thranduil almost jumped startle at the voice coming from his left, he looked down but could only _sense_ the presence of Thorin right beside him.

“If I didn’t know better, Thorin, I would say you brought me into this darkness to take revenge for my failing to help your people a long time ago.” Thranduil commented softly.

Thorin shifted moving in front of Thranduil, “No, Thranduil, no…The past is the past, my mind is set in one single goal, and it does not include you falling to your dead.”

Thorin tensed when he felt the weight of Thranduil’s hand on him, “Then, what is your goal?”

Thorin didn’t answer; instead he continued advancing through the darkened corridor with Thranduil following him close behind. Whatever the reasons involving both Kings they kept on walking without wondering why he was following him or why he was being followed by him.

They didn’t question themselves too much; Thorin was deep in his desires, hearing the entrancing voice inviting him to ravage the Elven-King; while Thranduil was just trying to give in what he had denied himself for so long. They didn’t held any hope for love, it was prosperous to even think about this emotion, still…a glimmer of hope was ignited in their hearts and, to not fall into the trap of unrequited affections, they fell into the trap of passion.

And it was like this, Thranduil found himself almost at the edge of the underworld with not ground before him and a tight arm wrapped around his waist.

“What…Thorin!” He exclaimed when his feet faltered and he was certain he would fall to a sure dead.

Dark laughter filled the cavern, and Thranduil shivered when he was pulled back unceremoniously to the ground. The Elven-King straightened up with rage building up inside him; he clenched his feet aware of the consuming darkness around him.

“Were you afraid, Thranduil?”

“Thorin! What do you think you’re doing? I almost fell!” Thranduil turned around slowly trying to catch the dwarf in the darkness. “What is the meaning of this, Thorin? I thought you say you were beyond revenge.”

“I am.” Thranduil felt frustration mixing with anger and fear. Thorin felt comfortable hiding in the shadows whereas Thranduil was completely lost. “Your face…you have always been beautiful, O great Elven-King, but when is marked by fear…it looks irresistible.”

Thranduil turned in time for a pair of lips crashing against his. There was nothing soft behind the rough texture of Thorin’s beard. Not on the way he seemed to possess the lips from the elf. Thranduil fought placing his hands on Thorin’s shoulders ready to push the dwarf away until he felt Thorin’s fingers traveling down his neck slowly. The Elven-King faltered for a second and Thorin took his chance to deepen the kiss, tilting his head he pried away the elf’s lips and sneak inside.

In another moment, in another time, Thranduil would have laughed at Thorin for standing on something to reach up; perhaps, when he didn’t feel so angered and aroused he would bring this up; however, at that moment, Thranduil growled pushing Thorin with excessive force. Thorin opened his eyes in shock; never imagine the Elven-King possessed such strength inside him.

Out of instinct more than anything else, Thranduil moved to straddle the fallen dwarf.

“You are mistaken, Thorin Oakenshield, if you believe for one second you will have me without my consent.”

Thorin growled lifting his face, struggling under Thranduil’s weight but whatever cursed or fight he had in him was cut away when Thranduil crushed his lips against his, the Elven-King emphasized his actions by slowly and surely grinding his crotch against Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Next chapter is going to be a battle of wits between them, and we will see who gets to be on top.


End file.
